


Glass Reverie

by chestgore



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Incest, Sibling Incest, kinda ooc tbh, no one beta'd this we die like men, theres a slight mention of knotting, while this isnt like outright rape/noncon i added that filter just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26833960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chestgore/pseuds/chestgore
Summary: Late night sex between two damaged people
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	Glass Reverie

**Author's Note:**

> theres implied sexual abuse at the hands of a relative and sexual relations between siblings here. if you are sensitive to these topics i urge you not to read this

Leave.

That single word loomed over the sea of lust and fear that sloshed around within his mind.  
The dreary fog that was the concept of walking away from the door was powerless against his roaring thoughts.  
As all clouds and mists it was intangible. Though apparent and at the forefront, his hesitation would never sway him as his desire did. Never did it seep into his core and force his body.  
Hesitation was the drop of a bitter herb against the ocean of intoxicating poison that was desire.  
Though it may have eroded him and her, he always lapped up every drop he could, the stinging haze of a primordial high proved its worth.  
On the other side of a worn door, in the thick of a rotting night, was a husk with the face of a mother he had never known  
Perhaps shell would be a better term, though brittle she was beautiful. Husk also implied that she was nothing more underneath the exterior.  
Dig below the faux smiles and conditional warm.   
Find those sharpened stones of resentment.   
Feel the icy dampness of despair that clings to her.

Poor Seruel was delusional. For he felt that every touch burned her, every bit he gave to her would fill the emptiness.  
Giving did nothing, out of desperation he began forcing.   
Anything to make the hatred leave her eyes, anything and everything to keep away the dreadful vacant stare.   
Rarely he'd see the genuine sparks of joy, of life within her. Those few moments were more euphoric than any other experience, even more so than his gratifying his desire.   
If sparks could do that then a steady fire would end him. The thought of her full of happiness was so exciting it outright made him anxious.  
Fill her with love, every part of her needed it he thought.  
Claw it in, tear it in, spit it in.   
Anything and everything from him to her, he thought.

Poor Seruel was shameless. As a child his shyness doubled as repression. His ocean of affection was nothing more than a pond, he understood that he very much liked her, but never how. Thus the drizzles of platonic love never swelled his wants.  
As time passed they grew.  
As did his love.  
The aforementioned showers had grown into storms, deepening his understanding, broadening the ideas of who she was to him.  
She never stopped being his sister, but the onset of adulthood emphasized that she was a woman.  
He was a man.   
He understood what the two did to each other. He knew what was to come when one loved another. All too familiar was he when it came to the expectations.  
Those storms warped into terrifying hurricanes. Ever present they were as they flooded his pond, morphing it into something gargantuan and unruly.   
Despite understanding all of this, articulating and simplifying it into an allegory meaningless to all but him, he never felt anything towards it. His indifference, his unwillingness to alter the flow of life bordered on apathy.   
So where did the hesitation come from? He was aware of the whispers surrounding them, they meant nothing.   
Why should they mean anything? All of it was well within his birthright.   
Father had done the same hadn't he?

Seruel was a king, Heles was his queen.  
Wasn't she made for this?

"Wasn't I made for this?" 

The honeyed voice leaked from a memory. An old conversation that etched itself into him. Recalling those words momentarily snapped him from his intentions. Stilling his inner sea.  
Suddenly the hesitation gripped the pit of his stomach, nearly crushing his newfound anxiety.  
Wordlessly he asked the door he faced how much was what.  
How much was any of this actually love? How much was lust?   
Was he delusional? Was he shameless? Is this how kings act?

"Come in."

He let go of a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been keeping in. 

"I know you're out there. Come in."

He could hear the smile, it pierced through him. It rocked him in mind and body, his eyes caught a drop of sweat hitting the floor as his hand nearly ripped the handle off.  
The abrupt crashing of waves was nauseating, anything he had to say was trapped within his throat as he made his way in. The door let loose a satisfying click as time stood for him. 

Moonlight caressed her in ways only meant for him.  
Sitting on a cheap bed, facing the poor shamble of glass and wood known as a window, was the ghost of a mother he never met.   
Probably.  
It didn't matter, not here.  
He couldn't move, paralyzed was he as his eyes followed the curves and dips of silver hair. Unfurled it spread beyond her and the bed, reminiscent of a veil.  
Through the locks was skin like his, fair and battle-worn.  
Though for her it looked more delicate, a seafoam that he could melt into.

She craned her head backwards as the rest of her body leaned in accordance, the veil danced around her.  
He was greeted with an upside down smile, the opening of relaxed eyes, and a better view of his bride's nude frame.   
Their golden stare was unnerving. 

The grin on her face receded, making way for words spoken but ignored. Though he could hear her his attention was drawn elsewhere, his eyes licking all of life's nicks and scratches peppered throughout her body.   
The ones he made were particularly enticing.  
Her smile invited him as the resentment in her gaze pinned him. 

The ethereal flow of her voice became less soothing and more grating to his ears, a sour buzz that interrupted his observations.   
He didn't want to know what she was saying. None of it mattered. It all meant nothing to him.  
None of it meant anything to the waves of sicking sweetness that crashed within him.  
She had known what was to come, hadn't she been waiting?   
Never did she use words truthfully anyway.

In a short stride, a flash of anger, her voice halted.   
Once more they shared an amber gaze as his hand covered her mouth, towering over her as the top of her head met his stomach.  
From his peripheral laid the rest of her. Bare. All for him.  
All for anyone who walked in from that unlocked door.  
The thought brought on an infuriating twinge.  
How long was that door open for?  
How long had she been vulnerable like this?  
Who was that door open for?  
Who did she think she was?  
His internal interrogation churned his stomach, but it was a prick of a thin needle compared to what was to come.

Reality became disjointed for Seruel as the shift in her stare began. Dread tightened him, tensed him as torrents of panic overflowed his raging sea.   
Suddenly he was holding a corpse.  
His touch burned the cool skin of the woman he loved, the hollowness in her eyes stung back at him.

Lifeless.  
Soulless.  
Vacancy.  
All of which covered the yearning she had to get away.   
To be anywhere but next to him.  
His grip twitched, digging more into her face as words spilled, choked from him.

"No... D-"

"Don't look at me like that."

His sister's sharp voice startled him.

"Don't look at me like that, Seruel."

The memory whipped him. No more was the king, in his place was a nervous prince, out on a warm day with his sister.  
The heat bothered her, she was young and rebellious enough to talk her way out of wearing proper royal attire.  
The sun kissed so much of her bare skin, the small dress protecting little of her from its advances.  
Why couldn't he?   
Why couldn't he look at her like that?  
The sun did, all the other men did.  
Father did.

The hesitation. That could be all traced to moments like these.  
He loved his sister. She loved him as well.   
So it was fine to betray her wants. They loved each other. This was right.

The present lashed him. The prince who became the king of woe realized that he was on top of his sister. He was a tad stunned at how his body moved while the past whisked him away.   
Straddling her as his hand silenced her.  
Her stare breaking him as misery overcame him.

"Don't look at me like that."

His own voice sounded distant, tears and sweat blurred her face.

"Don't... don't look at me like that Heles."

Pain ached his heart while desire ached his lower body.   
There wasn't a reaction from her, instead she adjusted to the usual position, her free hands beginning to guide the king into her.

Seruel knew what men and women did to each other.  
Seruel knew what happened when one loved another.  
Seruel knew what was expected. 

His anatomy dictated him to do so.   
As did the kingdom.  
As did Father.  
As did Heles.

He couldn't keep his eyes open as he pressed into her.   
The heat in him distorted everything, yet he still felt the dull hurt throb throughout.  
This was right. This was ok.  
She was made for this.   
It was his responsibility to love her and it was hers to take it.  
She knew what she was doing right?  
They loved each other right?

He had moved his hand away to better ground himself, peering through slitted vision to take care not to grab her hair, not to look at her face.  
He threw himself into instinct, begging that it would take his attention elsewhere.  
It always felt good with her, it always felt right. What a fool he was to question it.  
He repeated those sentiments to himself like a mantra, forcing them to be true.   
Thankfully nothing was said between them for a moment, instead they disengaged their thoughts, letting their bodies act with autonomy. Short lived was that moment as her voice haunted him. Repeating his name until he gathered the courage and control to acknowledge her.

He nearly came to a halt, struck by her beauty.  
The blush upon her face accented the emotional stirring in her eyes, the marks around her mouth setting in stone the dynamic they shared. All of it made his heart stop once or twice.  
Through her own tears she spoke very little, though it never took more than a spark to set a blaze.

"Don't cry Seruel."

Her hands cupped his face, trying to thumb away the tears welling up. Her legs wrapped around him, trying to embrace the broken man within her. 

"Grand kings don't cry like that Seruel."

Finally he broke. All the sensations ripped through him, mix-matched and without abandon the tides of his person were forcibly altered.  
He wasn't sure if this was right. If this was ok.  
He wasn't sure if she was faking.   
Wasn't sure if it mattered.

His pleading and declarations of love fought for her attention, nearing release did he hear a faint echo of it from her.  
Probably.

Silence spoke for them as the slightly stagnant air of the ship cooled their session. Patiently waiting for the swelling to lessen, Heles found herself twirling strands of his hair. Surmising that he was lost in his own world from the breathing near her ear, she decided to drag him back.

A quick flick of his ear earned her a lazy bit for her throat. 

The night continued its decay as they carried on in mischief.

**Author's Note:**

> i have two brain cells and one of them is blackout drunk all the time i hope you like the content that the other less drunk one produced. i tried my best to tag all the more problematic content, if you feel there should be a particular tag added please lmk.  
> apologies if the spacing is off, i dont know shit abt the internet


End file.
